


If you were faced with Him in all His glory

by PandaInTheStars



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Comics Influence, Established Relationship, Existential Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'm reading the comics and they're eating my brain, Post-Season/Series 04, Powerful Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-01 05:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21407173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaInTheStars/pseuds/PandaInTheStars
Summary: Lucifer has been acting strangely lately.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 161
Kudos: 515
Collections: catchingthewindfav





	1. Chapter 1

Lucifer has been acting strangely lately.

He’s quiet, which is quite a feat for him. He speaks when spoken to. He is withdrawn in an entirely uncharacteristic way. He doesn’t joke or flirt. His usual joie de vivre has been replaced by stoic silence. He flinches when he is touched—even when it is Chloe touching him.

Alarm bells have been ringing in Chloe’s mind for days.

She thinks of Hell. Hell was a long time ago. He was shaken afterwards, of course, quiet in a different way. Distracted and contemplative. It took a lot of sessions with Linda and a lot of conversations with Chloe for all of it to come out and for him to start healing. But he _did_ heal and things have been… better. He didn’t need a lover when he first came back. He needed a friend, and Chloe threw herself into the task with wild abandon, desperate to make up for lost time. When they finally came together it was an organic thing. Two bodies in orbit finally surrendering to the pull between them. Linda calls it “testing the waters.” It’s a soft beginning. And Chloe had thought, maybe… maybe everything was going to be okay.

Until now.

Lucifer is in complete control of himself at all times. He acts like if he lost control, he would fall apart at the seams. His movements are so stilted, so opposite to his usual lithe grace, that he seems more like a statue come to life than a living being. He wears so many layers—coats and jackets and vests and shirts—as if he was trying to bind himself together with leather and cloth.

Strange people start coming to the precinct. Men and women of all shapes and sizes. Chloe doesn’t want to acknowledge what she knows they are. They show up, speak to Lucifer in private, and then leave. “Family matters,” Lucifer says, and he leaves it at that. After a while they stop coming, and Chloe tries to keep her mind at ease.

Chloe wants to ask him about all of it, of course, but that would be a fruitless endeavor. She knows from Hell (and the aftermath) that getting Lucifer to open up is a _process_, one that takes patience and determination.

The least she can do is get him to engage.

“What do you think of Emily?” Chloe asks Lucifer one day. They are sitting in the precinct conference room. The table between them is covered in photos, witness statements, forensic reports, and Chloe’s field notes.

“The sister?” Lucifer says. He picks up one document after another, listlessly. He doesn’t really look at any of them.

“Yeah, we haven’t covered that angle yet.”

Lucifer purses his lips and shakes his head. “She didn’t do it.”

Chloe nods. She points to a bus timetable. “I know, it seems unlikely. But, look, she had opportunity—”

“She didn’t do it, Detective.”

Chloe looks up sharply. “We don’t know that, Lucifer. We’ve hit a dead end with the boyfriend. We need to look somewhere else.”

He shakes his head. “It’s a waste of time.” Then he mutters to himself, “It’s all a waste of time.”

Chloe blinks. “What? Lucifer, what do you mean?” He doesn’t respond. “Lucifer, I know something’s up with you. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But you have to stay focused. We still have a job to do.”

Lucifer looks her in the eye. A frisson of… something… runs through Chloe. Chloe isn’t afraid of Lucifer. She’s not. She hasn’t been afraid of him for a long time.

“I know who did it.”

“What?” she splutters. “Who?”

“Perkins. The bartender.”

“How do you know that?”

Lucifer winces. He rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I just… I just do, Detective.” His face scrunches up as if he has a terrible headache.

“Lucifer, you know how this works. If we don’t have probable cause and evidence, we can’t arrest him. So just… explain it to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Lucifer…”

“Please stop asking.”

“Lucifer—”

“Just _stop_.”

Chloe inhales to say something else and then… doesn’t exhale. Not through her mouth at least. The air rushes through her nose and she jerks forward in surprise. The air had nowhere else to go because… she doesn’t have a mouth anymore.

Chloe’s eyes bug out. She claps a hand over her—where her mouth _used_ to be. All she feels is smooth skin. She can feel her teeth beneath the flesh, but that’s all it is… just flesh. Her lips are _gone_.

She screams.

The noise is muffled of course. She sounds like some kind of dying animal. She sucks in air through her nose, but it isn’t enough. _It isn’t enough_. She can’t get enough air. She’s going to die. Oh God, she’s going to die.

She pushes back from the table with such force that she falls off her chair. She collapses to the floor and immediately starts clawing at her mouth-flesh with her fingernails, desperate to—to what? Tear open a _hole?_

Before she can do anything, however, strong hands grab her wrists and pull them away from her face. She blinks away tears and looks up. Lucifer is kneeling in front of her, his grip on her hands firm but gentle.

He looks _devastated_.

“It’s okay,” he says. His voice is soft and choked. “It’s going to be okay.” And despite the circumstances, Chloe actually does feel a little better. He gives her a tight smile and Chloe sucks in air. She breathes through her nose, in and out.

After a minute, Lucifer lets her hands go free. Chloe feels calmer, but nothing feels real now. What happened? How could this happen? Tears roll down her cheeks. They come faster when she realizes she can’t even sob.

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer says. “I’m so sorry.” He reaches up and wipes away her tears with his thumb. Then he draws his hand down her face. His fingers ghost lightly over where her mouth used to be and then… it’s there again. As if it never left.

Chloe pauses. And then…

“_What the fuck?_” she screeches, surely loud enough for the whole precinct to hear.

Lucifer pulls back sharply. He stumbles a little and then gets to his feet. “Apologies, Detective. That’s… that’s not enough, is it?” He takes a step back. Then another. “This was foolish of me. I’ll leave.” And then he’s just… gone.

Vanished.

Chloe blinks at the space where he used to be. Chloe has seen Lucifer fly away before. It’s a quick event, but it involves a flash of feathers and a gust of wind. She even knows what it’s like when Amenadiel pauses time. In that case there is no transition at all. The angels are just there and then they’re gone.

This was different. It was as if Lucifer simply stepped behind a veil. Except the veil was invisible. And made of air. And…

Chloe scrambles to her feet.

\---

He’s on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. He taps some ash into the open air below him. Chloe walks through the penthouse and approaches him quietly. She stands at his side and looks out at the LA skyline, glittering in the dark.

She doesn’t touch him.

“Hello, Detective,” he greets her.

“Lucifer.”

He sighs gustily. “I am sorry. Truly. Today… that was a mistake. I am not… used to this.”

Chloe looks at him, her gaze steel. “Used to _what_, exactly?”

Lucifer turns away from the balcony and runs his hand through his hair. “Where to begin? Well… I should tell you that… my Father died.”

Chloe’s first instinct is to offer condolences. That’s what you do when a loved one’s family member dies. You offer comfort and support. You ask if they need anything. You ask when the funeral is.

And then Chloe remembers.

“God is _dead?_” she says, just short of a yell.

Lucifer winces. “He is… not resident in this universe anymore. He’s gone. Whether He is destroyed or just… elsewhere. It matters little. What matters is… He left me the inheritance.”

“The inheritance?” Chloe blinks. “What inheritance?”

Lucifer’s mouth does something funny. He spreads his arms out, something almost _sheepish_ in his mannerism.

Chloe shakes her head. “I don’t get it, Lucifer.”

“He left me… His Creation.”

Chloe nods. His creation, right. For a moment she looks around the penthouse, expecting to see an object of some value. A gold statue, perhaps. Maybe a really nice grandfather clock. And then it hits her all over again. His Creation. _His _Creation. His _Creation_.

It takes her several minutes to pick her jaw off the floor. Then a few more for her to look at Lucifer again. His expression appears to be frozen in a perpetual wince. “He left you… the _universe?_” Chloe feels proud of how steady and not-hysterical her voice is.

“Seems like it. And here I was thinking I wouldn’t even get the stamp collection.”

Chloe pushes down what feels like rising nausea. “So today was…?”

Lucifer rubs at his sleeve. “Ah… growing pains? I am working on my control. Matter manipulation is so… well it’s so _easy_, you see.”

“You took away my _mouth_, Lucifer.”

“I… I know. I was just… stressed.”

“You were stressed.”

“There’s a lot on my mind, Chloe.” This is not his first use of her given name, not by a long shot, but for some reason, here, in this moment, it makes her feel uncomfortable.

“A lot on your mind… like, what?”

Lucifer levels his gaze at her. “Like everything, Chloe.”

_Everything_.

Chloe steps back, retreating into the penthouse. Lucifer follows, slow but inexorable. She puts the couch between them. Was that a conscious decision or…?

“So you’re saying you’re, what? You’re omnipotent?”

Lucifer sighs and stuffs his hands into his pockets. She expects him to stay silent. But he still replies, “Yes.”

“Yes?” Chloe gasps. She leans onto the back of the couch. Her breath is coming much faster. She probably needs to sit down. “So you.. Are you.. Can you… Are you reading my mind?”

Lucifer shrugs. “I’m trying very hard not to.”

Right. That does it. Chloe collapses onto the couch. She puts her elbows on her knees and holds her head in her hands. Lucifer steps around her and sits on the opposing chair.

“So that’s how you know Perkins did it?” she asks through her fingers. “You just… know?”

She hears fabric sliding against itself. Probably Lucifer messing with his cufflinks. “I know… everything that happens… everywhere. I have for the last couple months.”

That makes sense. That’s when all of this began. When he first started acting strangely. When the… people… started showing up at the precinct.

Chloe slowly lifts her hands away from her face. She looks up at Lucifer. He looks the same as he always has. And he’s smiling at her. It’s a pained, tired smile.

“Are you… God?”

Lucifer snorts. “Mr. God was my Father, Detective.”

“I’m serious, Lucifer.”

He sobers. “The truth is, I don’t know, Detective. As usual He failed to leave instructions. All I know is I have His power. And it’s not just me. My brother Michael got the same deal.”

“Michael?”

“You’ve met him, actually. He’s the one with the dreads.”

Of course. She remembers _that _particular character from a few weeks ago. There had been raised voices in the interrogation room that time.

“What, uh, what does he think about it?”

“He thinks we need to follow in our Father’s legacy. Carry on His Name. You know, rule the universe and whatnot.”

“Rule the… universe? I’m guessing you disagree.”

“Well, obviously. I want what I’ve always wanted.”

“And that is?”

“To be left alone. To live my life the way I want to. To not be trapped by my Father’s expectations even after His death. I asked the Host to leave me be. It’s not like they have the power to refuse me now.”

Chloe shivers. “And Michael? Where is he?”

“Back in the Silver City I expect. Either moping or setting up shop. He’ll be fine. He’s a wet blanket, my brother, but he can’t possibly be a worse God than Dad.”

“…And you?”

Lucifer looks at her, then. His eyes are wide. His fingers tangle together nervously. Chloe doesn’t understand. What could he possibly be afraid of now? “I want to be with you, Chloe. I want to run Lux. I want to be a police consultant. I want to annoy Daniel and argue with Maze,” he says. “I… It’s difficult. Everything is so much more… well, _everything_. And I hate it. I hate it because it feels _right_.” He catches her eye. “It feels… well, it feels like I was made for this.”

Chloe just breathes for a little while. The words ‘made for this’ bounce around her head. “But… you’re learning to control it. Maybe you can just… turn it off?”

“I’m trying. That’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time. I’ve tried pushing the power away. It just comes back to me. It’s like…” He breaks off, searching for an appropriate metaphor. “It’s like a ball in a valley. No matter how far I throw it, it just rolls back to my feet.”

“You can’t ignore it?”

“No. I’ve tried, Detective, believe me.”

Chloe nods.

“Alcohol is even less effective than it was before, can you believe that?” He forces a laugh. “It’s like I’m cursed.”

_Blessed_, Chloe thinks.

Lucifer’s world has always been so much larger than her own. She thought she had come to terms with that. She knows he is (was?) an angel. An archangel, even. She knows he’s immortal. He is immortal while she is definitely not. She knows his shape is an illusion, a reflection of his state of mind. It’s always Lucifer in there, always _his _soul, even when he changes his appearance. She has managed to keep all that in her mind without it breaking. After his face, after Hell, after everything.

She thinks she can feel the cracks forming.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay.”

Lucifer stays silent in front of her, awaiting her judgment. And how ironic is that?

“Okay,” she repeats. She reaches out and takes Lucifer’s hand. She can’t really feel the power thrumming beneath his skin. She can’t _really_ feel the divine light that courses through him like blood. It’s just Lucifer. This is just Lucifer’s hand. “We’ll figure this out.”

He smiles.

Chloe has never felt so small.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this hit me like a bolt of lightning. I wrote it in one sitting. It's the longest thing I've ever written in one sitting. There might be more to this, actually, but I'll leave it as completed for now.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m taking your advice, Detective,” Lucifer announces the next week, sliding into the chair next to Chloe’s desk.

Chloe starts a little in surprise, gripping the arms of her chair. “Lucifer, you can’t just appear out of nowhere like that,” she tells him breathlessly. Lately she has watched him step in and out of thin air as if reality is simply a piece of origami paper he can fold around himself.

“Apologies,” Lucifer says, although he doesn’t sound particularly sincere. “I’m just excited.” And Chloe _is_ relieved to see it. He’s practically bouncing in his chair, exhibiting an inner energy that has been absent for a long time. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night.”

“What I said?”

“Yes, what you said about control. I’ve been so focused on trying to contain my Father’s power. But repressing it clearly isn’t working.” His bravado falters then, and his smile dims. “I don’t want a repeat of… well…” He twists his fingers together. “…well, I’m sure you’ll agree, Detective.”

Chloe runs her tongue behind her lips. “Right,” she says softly.

“Right! And I thought that if I stopped fighting it… if I actually figured out how to _use_ this power, not just push it away… well then there would be no more, uh, _accidents_.”

Chloe nods. “Ok… so that means…?”

Lucifer leans back and spreads his arms wide. “It means I am a deity in training.” He grins.

Chloe hesitates. She isn’t sure what to say to that. Thankfully she is saved from forming a reply by Dan approaching her desk. He's carrying a rather large stack of folders.

“Hey, Chlo,” Dan says.

“Douche!” Lucifer pipes up cheerfully from the side.

Dan’s brow wrinkles. “Listen, Chloe, I wanted to talk to you about next weekend. I know I promised to host Trixie’s slumber party, but I just got hit with a ton of witness statements to catalogue. I really don’t know if it’s going to happen.”

Chloe sighs. “Okay, well—”

“Skipping out on our parental duties again, are we, Douche?” Lucifer says.

Dan looks at Lucifer. “Look man, I know you’ve never actually done any office work in your entire _life_—”

“You’d be surprised. My first employer was very tedious.”

“—but I didn’t plan for this. I wanted this party to happen too. Trixie’s been looking forward to it since forever.”

Lucifer blinks. His eyes, Chloe notices, are strangely glassy. “Not forever,” he says. “Twelve days.” He blinks again and seems to come back to himself. He chances a nervous glance at Chloe. “I mean, if I were to hazard a guess,” he adds, unconvincingly. He then leans back in his chair and folds his arms, apparently satisfied with himself.

Chloe clears her throat and turns back to Dan. “Right, well, Lucifer and I made reservations for this weekend, but we could cancel… host the party at my place…”

“Absolutely not!” Lucifer interjects. “Detective, we’ve had the _The State of Innocence_ at the LA opera booked for months! It’s never been performed live on stage before. The special effects required at the time it was written were simply too demanding. It will be a unique experience.” He huffs. “We can’t cancel now over some bloody paperwork.”

Before she can reply, he looks at Dan. “Daniel,” Lucifer says. “Those papers you're holding, are they the offending items?”

“Er, yes, but—”

“Perfect. And how would you complete them, given enough time?”

“Well, I—”

“That’s excellent. Very good, Daniel. Now, are you sure you didn't finish this task earlier?”

Dan frowns. “What? Of course I'm sure.” He rifles through the stack and picks a sheet out at random. He holds it up, his expression shifting into a mask of confusion.

The sheet is marked up with red pen.

“It’s… it’s my handwriting,” Dan says, perplexed. “I’m sorry, Chloe, I swear I hadn’t done this yet.” He flips through a few more pages, checking them. “I don’t get it. Let me check the computer—see if it’s in the system already.” He nods hurriedly at Chloe and Lucifer before retreating to his desk.

Lucifer looks pleased as punch.

Chloe gapes, shifting her gaze back and forth between Dan and Lucifer. “Lucifer, what did you do?” she hisses.

Lucifer leans back in his chair. “Nothing! Well, not _precisely_ nothing. Nothing our dear Daniel wouldn’t have done all by himself in the next few days.”

Chloe’s fingers feel numb. “Did… did you…”

“Read his thoughts? No, not really. I asked a question. The answers were on the very surface of his mind.” He chuckles. “You could practically _see_ them, Detective.”

Chloe’s heart leaps into her throat. She beats it back. Showing anger is better than showing fear. And she _is_ angry, although it takes her a moment to pinpoint why. She glares at him. “You can’t do things like that, Lucifer.”

“Why ever not? It’s a win-win. Your ex and your offspring can have their party now. We can go see Dryden’s masterpiece. Daniel has less on his plate.” He huffs a little laugh, his eyebrows pinching. “I don’t understand, Detective. We just agreed I needed some practice. I thought this was a perfectly harmless opportunity to have a go at weaving the threads of causality. And see? It worked out well for everyone.”

Chloe tries to ignore the way Lucifer uses the word ‘causality’ as if it’s a piece of twine he can twist around his finger with ease. “I didn’t agree to anything, Lucifer. You can’t mess with people like that.”

“But—”

“You didn’t do this for Dan or Trixie. You did this because it was convenient for _you_.”

“Detective—”

“What happens the next time things don’t go your way, Lucifer?” Chloe says, pointing her finger at him. “You’re just going to snap your fingers and zap your way through the problem?”

Lucifer’s mouth falls open. Then he shuts it with a snap and glowers. “Yes? And why shouldn’t I,” he says, his tone dark. His eyes spark with something brighter than fire.

Chloe flinches back. Then she stands, grabbing at her jacket and bag. “I can’t do this, Lucifer,” she says, shoving her arms into the sleeves. She hates this. She hates that her heart and her mind are at war with each other. And she hates that all of this is happening in the first place.

Lucifer’s expression clears. “What? Wait… no, Detective. I didn’t mean… Chloe—” He stands and reaches for her but she shoves herself away.

“Just drop it, Lucifer,” she says, hitching her bag onto her shoulder. Then she sweeps past him and storms out of the precinct.

\---

Chloe is sitting on her bed, under the covers. Her bedside lamp illuminates _Sense and Sensuous_, which rests against her raised knees. (So Chloe may have picked up an affinity for self-published romance novels while Lucifer was in Hell. Who was going to judge her? Certainly not him.) She finds that she can’t concentrate on the words at all. She can’t stop thinking about the light she saw in Lucifer’s eyes. It was so different from his usual soft brown. It burned even brighter than the red fire that flares in his eyes when he’s angry or aroused. Was that the power he holds within him? The power he now has the ability to wield, shaping the world and its occupants as he sees fit?

Maybe she was too harsh today. His actions _were _harmless in the long run. But Chloe can’t stop seeing the slippery slope. She can’t stop seeing a future in which Lucifer moves the people and places around him like pieces on a chessboard, setting them up to capitulate to his whims. She can’t stop remembering the feeling of her body betraying her. Of _Lucifer _betraying her with his careless loss of concentration.

But then again, who is she to judge his actions? She’s just Chloe Decker, even more of a nobody than she was before. God certainly didn’t choose her to rule over the universe. Who is she to claim the moral high ground, when that spot is currently claimed by the man who smiles at her from across her desk every morning? And is supreme authority and moral authority even the same thing? From what reference point is anyone supposed to judge? Where does she stand? Where does anyone stand in the face of such a cosmic upheaval?

There’s a soft knock against her bedroom door.

Chloe shuts the book with a snap and sets it on her bedside table. “So we’re knocking now, are we?” she says.

No response.

“Why don’t you, I don’t know, teleport in here? Or disintegrate the door. Or turn the house inside out. God forbid we actually open doors with their _handles_ around here. You already broke into my house for God’s sa—for Christ’s—shit, _shit_, you know what I mean.”

Another moment of silence. And then, “Actually, I used the house key you gave me, Detective. May I come in?”

Chloe huffs and folds her arms. “Fine,” she says. And then, quieter, “It’s not like I could stop you.”

The door opens with a creak. He’s leaning against the frame, silhouetted by the nightlight in the hallway.

It looks a little like a halo.

“You could, you know,” he says.

He shuts the door behind him before moving into her bedroom. He sits on the edge of her bed and clasps his hands in front of him, almost like he’s praying. Of course, there’s no one to pray to now.

“Chloe,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Uh, for what?”

For a long moment he does nothing but fiddle with his ring. “I think I may need… reminders. My… my perspective has changed. I don’t want to lose what we… I don’t want to lose…” He makes a frustrated sound and cuts himself off.

Chloe grips the edge of her duvet. “What do you mean, your perspective has changed?”

Lucifer closes his eyes. His attention seems to drift away. “There are thousands of insects outside your front door right now. Some of them are flying. I can see them, suspended in the air.” He moves his head, but keeps his eyes shut. “On the other side of the world a lion just made a kill. Its children won’t go hungry today. There are cracks growing in bridges and fault lines and relationships. People are dying. People are being born. At the edge of this galaxy a star is burning out the last of its fuel. In hundreds of thousands of years it will collapse.” He opens his eyes. He blinks. “It is difficult to maintain my perspective in the face of… _that_.”

Chloe struggles to keep her breathing steady. “You can see… all of it?”

“Yes. All the time.”

“How… how can you…”

“I don’t know.” He taps his temple with his finger. “But there’s space here for it. I guess there always has been. It just washes over me and… it all makes sense somehow.”

Chloe breathes out slowly. Her face is damp. She wipes away the moisture with the back of her hand. “And there’s really no way to get rid of it? You can’t… give it to someone else? One of your siblings?”

Lucifer laughs. It’s a sad sound. “No,” he says. He holds his hand in front of him, palm facing up. “Look, Detective.” As he speaks a light appears at the tips of his fingers. The light separates into a golden spark that floats into the air. Chloe watches as the spark is followed by another. And another. And another. Soon a cloud of gold, shining like the sun, is drifting away from his hand. Chloe’s eyes widen when she realizes what’s happening. His fingers are shorter. They’re growing shorter as more and more amber dust floats into the air. He is literally dissolving into the ether.

“Lucifer!” she cries, alarmed.

Lucifer sweeps his hand, balling the shining cloud into his closed fist. When he opens it, the dust is gone and his fingers are whole. “This power… it isn’t just inside me, Chloe. It _is _me,” he says. “If I were to give it away, I would be destroyed.” He sighs. “I think I figured out what happened to my Father.” Lucifer stares at his hand. “Of course, I still don’t know why He would choose now to do this to me. To _us_. Or why He chose _me_, of all His children.”

Chloe is silent for a moment. Then she taps the open space in the bed next to her. “Come on. Get in.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. Get in.”

Lucifer’s eyes flick to her bedroom door. “Detective, your offspring…”

Chloe huffs a laugh. “We’re not doing that. Not tonight. I just want you close.”

Lucifer smiles tentatively. Then he stands and starts stripping off his many layers. After a moment he slides under the sheets next to her. Chloe wiggles so that she’s lying flush against him, her head resting against his shoulder. She draws circles on his chest while he rubs her back. He’s warm and solid beneath her touch. He’s real. He doesn’t feel like a God who can keep the whole universe in his mind. He feels like a man. He feels like her boyfriend. He feels like Lucifer.

“I can give you reminders,” she says softly.

“Thank you, Chloe,” he says. He kisses the crown of her head.

“Is there… is there something special about you and Michael? I mean, compared to your other siblings,” she asks, switching from circles to figure eights. Little infinities. “Maybe that’s why He chose you.”

Lucifer sighs. He leans against the headboard and looks at the ceiling. “We did have a… special role when the world was young.”

“Oh?”

There’s a smile in his voice. “What on Earth did you read in Rome, Detective? I know for a fact that Michael is a prominent figure in the literature.”

“I wasn’t exactly in a rational frame of mind at the time,” she grumbles.

“Clearly. Not your finest hour of detecting, Detective.”

“Shut up,” Chloe says, shoving him playfully.

Lucifer laughs. “Michael and I were in charge of… setting things in motion, in the beginning. Michael had the raw Power, and I had the Will. Together we… well I guess you could say we primed the canvas. Even added our own flares of color here and there.”

“Like the stars?” Chloe asks, thinking of a peaceful night many months ago when Lucifer had given her a proper introduction to his creations.

“Like the stars, yes. My other siblings were in charge of the more metaphysical aspects of creation. Time, patterns, death, and the like. But the actual physical universe—the nuts and bolts, the fields and waves—that was me and Michael.”

“And he’s running things now? Michael?”

“Yes. I can feel him. And the world hasn’t fallen apart yet, so I suppose he’s doing a decent enough job.”

“Why would God give His power to both of you if Michael can run things just fine on his own? And if Michael actually wants to do it…”

“I don’t know,” Lucifer sighs. “I don’t know, Chloe. This is the last thing I wanted.”

Chloe shifts her arm across Lucifer’s waist so that she’s hugging him. He embraces her in return.

“Are we still on for this weekend?” he asks. “Or have I spoiled that now.”

“Don’t guilt trip me, Lucifer.”

“Sorry.”

“Yes, I still want to go,” Chloe says. She’s smiling. “Thank you for asking.”

“As you desire.”

And those are the last words Chloe remembers before she falls asleep in His arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit where it's due:  
The title for the fic obviously comes from that ballad _One of Us_ by Eric Bazilian and Joan Osborne.
> 
> The idea for this fic came from a conversation with [ObliObla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/), who has been following my journey through (thus far) the Sandman and Mike Carey versions of Lucifer. The premise is drawn from a particular plot point in the comics, and this panel in particular:
> 
> _**Transcript:**_  
_**Michael:** Lucifer! I did not mean--_  
_**Lucifer:** \--then without undue formality I take my place in Primum Mobile. I am **Samael**, the son of Yahweh. God of this creation and of the other._
> 
> The next question, obviously, was, "What would show!Lucifer be like as God?"
> 
> "That would be a trip," was my response.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Life falls into an uneasy balance, as it usually does. Lucifer makes good on his promise to practice his newfound gifts, but never on people directly, and usually outside of Chloe’s presence. The changes he does make are subtle. Chloe’s coffee, for example, is always warm. And it’s always perfect, even when it comes from the precinct’s less than stellar vending machine. Little things that used to annoy her—the brakes in her car, the squeak of her desk chair, the dust that collects in the corners of her house that she can’t reach—these things tend to smooth themselves away, like _someone_ out there is rounding off the sharp edges in her life.

Lucifer never takes credit for these acts of benevolence. And it doesn’t escape her, the meaning behind them. Lucifer is still very much a fan of quid pro quo and hot coffee is an apology as much as it is a gift. And you don’t ask for a ‘thank you’ when you apologize. But Chloe almost wishes that he would, since Lucifer’s silence on the topic has managed to fuel a paranoia in her that she didn’t expect.

The sun is shining a little brighter today. Did Lucifer will it to be so? The traffic is surprisingly light. Is this another one of Lucifer’s ‘gifts’? Where exactly does he draw the line when it comes to infringing upon the free will of others? And the scariest thought—the one she desperately hides within herself, _especially_ when he’s near, lest he happen to ‘see’ the surface of her thoughts—could there be a manipulation so subtle that she wouldn’t even notice it? Or worse, that she wouldn’t even _care?_

The clawing paranoia reminds her of someone. The irony practically blindsides her when she realizes who that someone is.

Of course, these fears are almost always dispelled when Chloe actually interacts with Lucifer. He still greets her with a smile and a “Hello, Detective” every morning. And he still makes her breakfast, if she spent the night at his place or he stayed over at hers. When they make love he still pours the same amount of effort and passion and _enthusiasm _into their activities. He hasn’t stopped cracking inappropriate jokes. He maintains his love for music and expensive alcohol and fancy suits. Although, in the case of the latter, he now seems more comfortable in discarding a few layers, sticking with a simple jacket and shirt instead of the full three-piece.

If Chloe could complain about anything, it would be that he is much more distant than he was before. He zones out, now and then, for long periods of time. He seems to forget, occasionally, that the people and objects around him are real. Or, perhaps more accurately, he forgets that the people and objects around him are no _more_ real than the rest of the universe that he can see in his mind’s eye at all times.

But it isn’t an impossible situation to deal with. Usually all it takes is a word from Chloe to bring him back to Earth. She refrains from touching him when he’s in one of his trances, however, as it usually causes him to jump out of his skin. Chloe still isn’t sure exactly why that is, but she suspects part of it is the reminder that he is still contained within a finite, physical body, while his mind is most definitely _not_. The disparity, she imagines, must be incredibly jarring.

Today, the inclement smog and high density of traffic have paradoxically put Chloe in a good mood. She pulls her cruiser up to a convenience store in North Hollywood. It’s the first active crime scene she’s been to since Lucifer dropped the ‘my-Father’s-dead-and-I’m-God-now’ bombshell. Contrary to popular belief, Chloe isn’t the only homicide detective in LA and murders don’t actually tend to happen on a convenient weekly basis.

Lucifer’s Corvette, she notices, is already here.

Chloe parks and enters the establishment. She finds Ella already bent over the body, snapping pictures. The victim is barely an adult. He’s laid out in front of the counter. The bags of potato chips he dropped when he fell are scattered around him, each marked neatly with an evidence card. A pool of coagulated blood expands from his neck.

“Chris Holmes. 17. Death by BB gun,” Ella says as greeting, standing up and turning to face Chloe. “It’s _hella_ rare but there’s a reason you’re not supposed to point those things at anybody at close range. Hit an artery. Cause of death: blood loss. Ambulance didn’t get here in time.”

Chloe nods. “Any surveillance?”

Ella quirks her thumb at the door behind her that reads ‘Employees Only.’ “Uni’s are pulling it now,” she says. “They’ll bring it back to the station for forensics to look over. The only witness was the store manager. He gave his statement already. Said it was two guys. Young. Not even wearing masks.”

“Thanks Ella,” Chloe says, acknowledging the uni who just walked over to hand her the witness statement. It’s a rather typical crime scene as crime scenes go. Probably an attempted robbery gone wrong. The culprits will most likely have shown their faces on cctv; that, or the outside camera pointing at the parking lot will catch their plate. All in all it is made most tragic by the age of the victim. But Chloe has been a homicide detective for a long time now. It’s moments like these when she feels most jaded. “Have you seen Lucif—”

Her words break off as movement flashes in the corner of her eye. There, on the other side of the convenience store and separated from all the police commotion, is Lucifer. She can see his head peaking above the aisle shelves. Along with—

“Ella!” Chloe says quickly, grabbing the forensic scientist not-too-gently by the shoulders and forcibly turning her around, getting Lucifer out of her line of sight. “Have you, uh, checked behind the counter yet?”

“No, but—”

“Great! Could you do that for me, please?” Then without waiting for a response she pushes Ella in the direction of the cash register.

Chloe stalks to the other end of the store, walking as quickly as she can without actually breaking into a run. When she rounds the corner to face Lucifer, she can’t help but take a moment to stare.

He’s standing next to a shelf of canned goods. Beans, vegetables, canned fruits and the like. A dozen or so of these cans are _floating _in front of him, twisting and twirling through the air. He makes a gesture with his hand and the pattern changes. The cans start swirling counter-clockwise instead of clockwise, looping into aerial knots.

His face is devoid of all expression. And his eyes… his eyes are blazing _white_.

They shine with the same light she saw floating off the tips of his fingers, except the intensity of the light is so much greater it feels as if he could burn her to a crisp with a single glare.

Chloe sucks in a breath and composes herself. “Lucifer?” she says, hopefully not loud enough to call the attention of the police officers on the other side of the store.

He doesn’t respond.

Breathing shallowly, Chloe pushes her way closer to Lucifer. A stray can floats past her nose. She bats it away. It bobs several times in the air before continuing its orbital motion.

“Lucifer?” Chloe tries again. She’s only a few feet away now, holding her hands up to shield her head against circling cans.

Nothing.

She doesn’t have a choice. He’s looking through her like she’s not even there. Like _nothing_ is there. Like he is completely separate from the world around him. And any second now someone could walk around the corner and see. So she reaches out a hand and touches him lightly on the chest.

It feels like a bolt of electricity has shot through her. For a moment… her body doesn’t exist. Or if it does she certainly isn’t in control of it. An unstoppable energy flows through her, touching each of her nerves one by one and keeping them still. It’s a paralyzing, suffocating feeling.

And then it’s over.

Chloe sucks in greedy lungfuls of air as cans drop to the ground around her. Each of them makes a resounding ‘clang’ as it hits the tile floor. In front of her, Lucifer’s eyes clear back to their usual brown and his hands drop to his sides. He blinks and looks down at her.

“Detective, did you say something?”

“I… I…”

Ella’s voice cuts across the store. “What was that?”

Lucifer turns away and calls back. “Apologies, Ms. Lopez! I may have had a moment of clumsiness.”

“Well keep it over there and don’t disturb the crime scene!” she shouts, but she sounds more fond than irritated.

Lucifer looks back at Chloe. “Sorry, Detective. But you have to admit.” He bends down and picks up a can from the floor. Then he tosses it in the air and catches it jauntily. “They’re the perfect size for juggling.” He smiles.

“That wasn’t juggling!” Chloe hisses.

Lucifer cocks his head to the side. “No?”

“They weren’t touching your hands!”

Lucifer looks down at the can he’s holding, puzzled, as if _it _contains all the power in the known universe, not him. “Weren’t they?”

“No! Lucifer, they were _levitating_,” Chloe says, trying to keep her voice to a stage whisper.

Lucifer turns the can in his hands. “Ah. I’m sorry. I was a little distracted. There are these fish deep underwater. If you poke them they give off the most incredible light show,” he says with a laugh. He fiddles with the can a little more before placing it back on the shelf.

Chloe just looks at him, speechless.

Lucifer takes note of her lack of response. His eyes widen. “Oh,” he says. “Perhaps this is one of those moments when I need… a reminder?”

“No kidding,” says Chloe. “Lucifer you can’t do that. Not again. Someone could have seen you.”

“Yes.” He doesn’t sound _nearly_ worried enough about it for Chloe’s taste.

“What about… what about all that stuff, you know… humanity mixing with divinity. That stuff still matters, right?”

Lucifer finally takes a real look around the aisle, his gaze sweeping across all the upturned cans scattered on the floor. “Yes, you’re right. It was my mistake.”

But Chloe can’t let it go. “You said that all of this… _practice_ or whatever you call it. It was supposed to _stop_ accidents from happening.”

“I know. And it is helping, believe me. But it _was_ an accident, Chloe, and I’m sorry for it. I can’t do anything else about it now. Well, besides this.” He reaches his left arm out, palm facing down. Then he rapidly closes his fingers into a fist. It’s as if a frame skipped in Chloe’s vision. The cans are now all back on the shelves in their proper arrangement, as if nothing ever happened. “There,” he says, grim satisfaction on his face.

Chloe pinches her brow. “Lucifer, can we… can we just go back to the crime scene?”

Lucifer heaves a heavy sigh. “Actually, Detective, I wanted to talk to you about that. What… exactly do you want me to do here?”

Chloe boggles at him. “What do you mean? Do your usual thing. Consult. Help me figure out…” Then she stops, the momentum of her thoughts tumbling to a halt. “Wait, wait. You… you _know_, don’t you?”

He looks at her, expression blank.

“Do you… Do you know who did this?”

He pauses for a moment. And then, “Yes.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“Yes.”

She twists her hand in an abortive motion. “Where… where the murder weapon is?”

He nods.

She clenches and releases her fingers. Releases a slow, even breath. “Well then what are you waiting for? Tell me!”

Lucifer sighs again. He twists so that he’s leaning against the aisle shelves, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Ah, that’s the tricky bit, Detective. I don’t think I should.”

“What?”

“What was it you said? That I shouldn’t just snap my fingers and smooth the path ahead of me? Not for personal gain?” He snaps his fingers for emphasis, and Chloe can’t help but flinch at the motion. He frowns. “I believe this qualifies.”

“What—no, no it doesn’t. We’re talking about human life, here, Lucifer. People’s safety. If we can find the culprits faster, we can protect more people. Not to mention get justice for the victim—”

“Human justice. This is a human affair.”

“So… so what? It no longer concerns you? None of it matters to the great and bloody powerful Lucifer Morningstar?”

Lucifer’s brow furrows. He pushes himself off of the shelf. “Think about it, Chloe. I could tell you who performed this act of violence. I could also just as easily have stopped it from happening in the first place.”

“So why didn’t you?”

His face constricts. A static electricity seems to fill the air around them. “Because despite your _obvious_ concerns over the state of my moral compass, I do actually happen to have one. And I will _not_ tell humans what to do. I will not make them bend to my will.” He points in the direction of the crime scene. “That includes those murderers. And that includes _you_, Chloe.”

Having made his peace, the energy in the air dissipates.

Chloe tries to shake off the prickly feeling on her skin. She shrugs, missing nonchalance by a lightyear. “So… so this means, what? You’re not going to work with me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well what are you saying? What am I supposed to do, Lucifer? Ask you questions and you can tell me whether I’m hot or cold? Do you have any idea how patronizing that is?”

“I could still… check your logic.”

“Lucifer that’s worse.”

For a moment they just stand there in silence.

“Look,” Chloe says. “Look. Why don’t you just… just go home. We can talk about this later.”

Lucifer purses his lips as if he’s going to say something else but then he stops. Swallows. He nods and starts walking towards the entrance of the convenience store. Chloe follows him.

As they near the entrance, Lucifer glances over to where the officers still swarm around the body. He pauses.

“He went to Hell, you know,” he says quietly.

Chloe blinks up at him. She touches his sleeve.

“I can see… I saw what happened to his soul. He went to Hell.” Lucifer shakes his head. For a moment, he looks truly disturbed. “He didn’t deserve it. He was bullied. His self-esteem… He… He didn’t deserve it.”

He mutters something else under his breath before shaking his head again. Chloe watches him exit the store.

She watches as he climbs into his car and drives away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

They stop working together.

It’s the only thing that makes sense, really. Chloe can’t stand the idea of Lucifer following her around, playing pretend. _Pretending _as if he doesn’t know where each piece of evidence can be found, let alone who performed the murder in the first place, as if the whole thing is a mystery to him. It feels too much like lying for both their tastes. And the alternative is almost worse. Chloe imagines Lucifer ordering her around the investigation, directing her every movement. She shivers at the thought. She would be nothing but an extension of his will at that point. And that wasn’t even _considering_ the enormous breach of privacy represented by his power.

It isn’t the worst thing in the world, Chloe tells herself. Chloe doesn’t need to see Lucifer every minute of every day. Plenty of couples—most couples, really—work different jobs. Chloe can live with that. And although obviously very disappointed in the outcome of events, Lucifer accepts it as well. It’s not like he has nothing to do. He still has Lux to run and, as he tells Chloe, he managed to survive for years with his nightclub as his sole distraction—long before he met his Detective and made a second career out of solving murders.

The one thing that makes Chloe nervous is that she can’t keep a consistent eye on Lucifer now. What if he just goes into one of his… episodes and… never comes back? What if the power that glistens on the tips of his fingers and leaks out of the corners of his eyes finally manages to consume him, body and soul? When she lies in bed at night her thoughts are filled with those blazing eyes she saw in the convenience store, completely devoid of any color or humanity. Eyes that stared straight through her as if she was nothing, nothing _at all_ in the grand scheme of things. If she hadn’t been there to bring him back, what would have happened? Would he have torn the whole store apart on a distracted whim? Would he have disappeared forever into that white light?

So, Chloe does what she always does when she’s worried about Lucifer’s mental health.

She talks to Linda.

“I’m really sorry,” Chloe says, clutching the teacup Linda handed her earlier.

She’s curled up on Linda’s couch. Linda sits on the chair across from her, sipping from her own mug. Between them, Charlie plays on the carpet. His latest obsession is trains, Linda tells Chloe. Currently he is engaged in pushing a green engine across the floor, making occasional sounds that are probably meant to imitate wheels turning on tracks or whistles blowing. So far, Charlie has exhibited no outward signs of his celestial heritage. Chloe knows Linda feels a certain guilty relief about that.

“Oh don’t be silly, Chloe,” says Linda. “This is what I’m here for. Besides, Lucifer waived his doctor-patient confidentiality rights when it comes to you ages ago. You know that.”

“Yes, well, I still feel weird asking you this behind his back.” Chloe doesn’t voice her greater discomfort: that she probably can’t do anything behind Lucifer’s back anymore. Can he see where she is and what she’s doing right now? Chloe shakes the thought away. If he can there’s nothing she can do about it.

“It’s really no trouble, Chloe. Now, you wanted to know my professional opinion on Lucifer in his current state?”

Chloe nods.

Charlie makes a happy noise and sticks the engine in his mouth.

“Honestly… I think he’s really doing better,” Linda says. At Chloe’s wide-eyed reaction, she amends, “Well, relatively speaking.” Linda sets her mug down and heaves a heavy sigh. “Look, two of Lucifer’s biggest challenges were his anxiety and paranoia. His anxiety was caused by a feeling of lack of control in his life. Well, control isn’t exactly something he lacks now, is it?”

Chloe inclines her head in agreement.

“And then there’s his paranoia. Lucifer has always been scared of his Father. His Fall caused real emotional scars as well as physical ones. Who wouldn’t be scared of a parent capable of that level of violence? And what if that parent was looking over your shoulder at all times?”

Chloe wraps her hands around her teacup. The warmth seeps into her fingers. “Lucifer told me he was afraid for a long time.” She sniffs. “Afraid of his Father sending him back to Hell when he first came to Los Angeles.”

Linda crosses her legs. “Exactly. And with those factors removed, he’s honestly a lot more stable than he used to be.”

Chloe leans forward. “But what about his, you know… I mean… he gets… _distracted_.”

“You mean his dissociative episodes?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“The way he described it to me, it’s like… he loses track of himself. The world is so big and his body is just… a very, very small part of it. Like a needle in a haystack.”

Chloe sucks in a breath and holds it. The phrase ‘loses himself’ claws aggressively at her heart and the edges of her mind.

“If I’m being completely honest here, Chloe,” Linda sighs. “I’m not sure there’s much more I can do for Lucifer.”

Chloe exhales. “What?”

“Surely you’ve noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

Linda looks at the ceiling. “Talking with Lucifer, it’s like… it’s like he knows what you’re going to say before you say it. Like he’s just waiting for you to get on the same page as him. Hell, if what all of you are saying is true, he could just download the whole DSM-5 into his brain if he wanted. I just don’t think I can tell him anything now that he doesn’t already know.”

Chloe frowns. Although some of her interactions with Lucifer have been downright _weird_ lately (and that’s putting it lightly), he has been, on the whole, himself. At least to her. Certainly after the initial scare it didn’t seem as if he was breaching the boundary of her mind.

“I think…” Linda continues. “I think he just comes to therapy because… that’s what he normally does. That’s what he did before. And he wants to try to maintain that sense of normalcy if he can. But I don’t think I’m really helping him. He has access to every therapist in the world if he wants. Every book on psychology. At this point I just don’t know what to do.”

Chloe leans back in her seat. It’s a less reassuring response than she had hoped for. And it doesn’t move her much past square one. But it is nice to have some solidarity in her confusion. For a moment, Chloe and Linda just sit together, taking comfort in their shared knowledge and experience, and their shared humanity.

“What does Amenadiel think about all of this?” Chloe asks, breaking the silence.

“He’s being a whiny little bitch about it,” says a voice behind Chloe’s back.

“Maze!” Linda admonishes.

Chloe turns in her seat. Maze is leaning against the opposite wall, knife twirling in her hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Not in front of the kid.” Maze looks down at Charlie, who has now become very interested in trying to pull tufts of yarn out of the carpet. If Chloe was less invested in her own life, she might have described Maze’s expression as _fond_. “I got the milk and stuff. Put it in the fridge,” Maze tells Linda.

“Thank you, Maze,” Linda replies.

“You said he’s upset?” Chloe asks.

“Oh yeah.” Maze starts pacing around the room, twirling her karambit in increasingly complicated motions. “He’s _jealous_,” she hisses. “Can’t stop going on about this ‘favorite son’ nonsense.”

Chloe mouths ‘favorite son’ to Linda. Linda shrugs half-heartedly.

“And don’t even get me _started_ on the first-born thing,” Maze continues.

Chloe turns her head, following Maze around the room. “First-born?”

“Yeah. Amenadiel was the first angel God made. Or… produced, or whatever.” Maze waves her free hand distastefully. “I mean, if this was a monarchy…” She rolls her eyes.

“He’s upset that he wasn’t chosen?”

“Yeah. Michael he’s fine with. But Lucifer’s _always_ been the black sheep of the family. It wasn’t like it was Amenadiel’s _job_ or anything to keep throwing Lucifer back into Hell every century or so.” Maze finally tires of stalking around the edges of the room and collapses into one of Linda’s plushy chairs. “Except he’s not _really_ upset, of course, since dear departed Daddy obviously could do no wrong.” That earns another eyeroll.

Chloe frowns. She tries to imagine how much more unhappy Amenadiel would be if he knew how dismayed Lucifer has been with his new role. Chloe looks up at the demon. “And what do you think about it?”

“What do _I _think about it?” Maze says with a raised, scarred eyebrow. “What the Hell am I supposed to think about it?” Linda squints. “Heck. Sorry. You guys are all trying to rationalize this like if you look at it the right way it’ll start making sense. It doesn’t matter what species you are. It _doesn’t_ make sense. This whole thing is crazy. For everybody! The whole situation is fu—”

“_Maze_.”

Maze stands and throws her hands up in surrender. “Whatever!” she says. “Just saying. Lucifer is the only one who has a chance of knowing what’s going on here. He’s the only one who _can_.” And with that she spins her knife and stalks out of the room.

Chloe stares into her teacup. The dregs circle around in the now-tepid liquid. For the first time she wishes she really could see her future in tea leaves.

\---

Chloe is standing in her kitchen, washing dishes. The sounds of the TV in the living room blare in the background. (Trixie, watching some silly teenage drama before she goes to bed.) It’s a companionable white noise. Lucifer cooked dinner tonight. Now he’s sitting at the table behind her, sipping wine. His own chosen vintage, of course. The whole domestic image is rather absurd, really, given what Chloe knows of his abilities. Still, he did everything the old-fashioned way this evening. Chopped the vegetables. Sautéed them. Grilled the chicken. All by hand.

Chloe thinks about what Linda said. About routine as comfort. About maintaining a sense of normalcy.

“How was your day?” she asks, because she doesn’t know, and it hurts a little.

She hears him set down his wine glass. “Productive. We’re finalizing contracts for some new dancers.”

Chloe smiles to herself. “That’s great,” she says. Being in a relationship with Lucifer is something she wanted for a long time. Longer, even, than she realized. Sharing space, sharing meals, sharing their lives and their bodies. In many ways it’s a dream come true. Especially now, when for so long and for so many reasons it had seemed like an impossibility. She pauses, then, halfway through scrubbing down a dinner plate. She does this, she knows. She shoves reality under the cover of things she understands. Lucifer leaps five steps ahead of his problems, usually in the wrong direction. Chloe hangs back. Reality shouldn’t be ignored for the sake of normalcy. “And… the rest?” she asks.

“Better,” he says. He is silent for a moment, perhaps waiting for her to change the subject. When she doesn’t, he continues, “It’s… making more sense now. All the information. All of the voices. Filtering is still a problem, but the knowledge itself… the comprehension… Chloe, there’s so much. It’s all… rather beautiful, really.”

Something twists inside Chloe. It’s a feeling she doesn’t even have a name for.

“There are so many possibilities,” Lucifer says, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “So many things I never before considered. That I _couldn’t _consider. Or had no reason to.”

“Oh?”

“And what I’m capable of… I had no idea, when all of this started.”

Chloe squeezes the sponge in her hand a little too hard. Suds splash into the sink. “Oh… oh yeah?”

“Have you ever heard of utilitarian consequentialism?”

Chloe turns around. “What?”

“Never mind. Let’s see if this works.”

Electricity fills her. It’s a familiar feeling. Like what she felt in the convenience store, when she touched Lucifer’s chest. But it’s inverted. The energy is flowing _out_ of her, not in. And it’s a terrible absence. She’s hemorrhaging _something_, something that was always there before. She is an exploding star. But it’s a silent explosion, a scream in the emptiness of space. And nothing is left behind. Nothing but ashes and the sparkle of stardust.

And then everything snaps back to normal.

Lucifer is grinning at her. “It worked!” he says cheerfully.

“Lucifer!” Chloe gasps, catching her breath. “What did you do?”

He gets up from his seat and rounds the table so that he’s standing in front of her. Chloe leans back on the counter and breathes deeply.

“Darling, I can’t see you,” he says.

Chloe blinks at him. “What? You’re looking right at me.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he says. “I mean to say… I’ve found a way of creating a… a focal point. A nexus, if you will. Then it’s just a matter of reversing the flow. Not an easy task, mind you. I have to rearrange a little of _myself _to achieve it, but… I think it’s worth it.”

“Lucifer, I have no idea what that means.”

Lucifer smiles brightly. “It means… I’ve deliberately blinded myself. Everything else flows around me, or through me, I suppose. Except you. Chloe I can’t _see_ you. You are a stone thrown in a pond. I can see the pond. I can see the ripples. But I can’t see the stone. Since I’m getting a better handle on this whole omniscience thing… I wanted to give you your privacy, if it was possible. And it is.”

Chloe can’t help but stare at him in silence for a moment. Then, “Lucifer that’s great!” she exclaims. “Can you… can you expand the, uh, the nexus thingy? Shut the whole thing down?”

Lucifer winces. “Ah, not exactly. It’s a bit like trying to stop a waterfall with my bare hands. And it’s not stable. It’s like… It’s like I’m not _supposed _to have a blind spot.” He exhales a frustrated breath. “But if I concentrate I think I can keep it up.”

Chloe releases her grip on the counter. She tips forward and they embrace. It’s a practiced motion. She can feel the weight of his head resting on her own. It’s no less comforting than the first time they fell together like this. Chloe hopes she never takes the feeling for granted.

“Thank you, Lucifer,” she says.

“Of course, darling.”

\---

Later, they are in Chloe’s bed together. Trixie is with her this week, so it’s a quiet night. Chloe has her book. Lucifer lies next to her, curled on his side, his eyes closed. He breathes deeply, evenly. He is a very pretty man, Chloe admits to herself. It’s unfair, really. He shouldn’t have the right to look as good as he does. His hair disheveled, his mouth half-open, freckles dotting his bare chest.

A needle in a haystack, she thinks. But her needle. Even with all the world at his fingertips—the whole pond—she is his focal point. His nexus. And that means he’s hers, still.

Doesn’t it?

“I love you,” she whispers to him.

Lucifer's eyes snap open, as if he wasn't really asleep at all. His expression is completely blank. Then, slowly, he smiles at her, like his personality needed a moment to come back to his body.

He reaches out and holds her hand, tangling their fingers together.

“I love you too, Chloe,” he says. “I always will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to [ObliObla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/) for all of the help and the great discussion. The pond/stone/ripples metaphor is all theirs :)
> 
> As usual, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

The bar is loud. The table in front of Chloe is covered in ring stains. It’s a small and cozy place—nowhere near as classy as Lux—but the atmosphere is welcoming. They’re sitting in a booth. Lucifer’s long arms wrap around the back of the seat, behind Chloe, and she leans into him. He surprised her tonight by dressing down. He’s wearing only a plain white shirt and black slacks. Louboutins, of course, but no jacket or vest to be seen. Well, it is very hot in here, she supposes. And she certainly won’t complain about the improved view of his shoulders and forearms.

Maze and Ella sit across from them.

Ella is already deep into her raspberry rhubarb margarita. “Girl’s night out is… it’s a state of _mind_, dude,” she tells Lucifer. “It’s about a sense of sisterhood. That’s metaphorical sisterhood, of course. It’s about the camaraderie of man. Or, er, wo-man. Whatever, you get me. You gotta believe in it, and it happens.”

“I’ve certainly found that to be the case lately,” says Lucifer.

“Yeah, totally. And besides, Linda couldn’t come,” Ella says, dipping back down for another drink.

“He’s my plus one,” Chloe defends, a little unsteadily, sipping her beer. She wraps her free hand around Lucifer’s waist. He’s nice and warm, like usual, and a little sparkly if she looks too close. But that may be the beer talking.

“And our designated driver,” Maze says with a smirk.

Lucifer glares at her. “You know very well how little alcohol affects me these days, Mazikeen,” he says. “Even in the Detective’s presence. Not that you aren’t similarly tolerant. Besides, do you have any idea how much damage I could do if I lost control now?”

“No, I don’t.” Maze shrugs. “Anyway, whatever happened to drinking for the taste?” she asks innocently.

Lucifer glowers.

“Ohhhh,” Ella gasps. “Lucifer, are you practicing for a new role? Is that why you haven’t been at the precinct lately?”

Lucifer huffs and looks down, like he’s embarrassed. “I apologize for my absence, Ms. Lopez. I’m afraid omniscience does not blend well with police work. Everything outside of the Detective’s path I see with a little too much clarity, as it were.”

Lucifer drops his arm from the back of the seat and wraps it around Chloe’s shoulders. He does this sort of thing more often now. As if he needs reassurance that she’s really still there, now that she's dropped off of his God-given radar. It feels nice.

Chloe will miss the always-hot coffee, she thinks. But the peace of mind is worth it.

“You guys are so cute,” Ella laughs. “An omniscient character, huh? That has to be tough. I mean, knowing _everything? _That would be soooo wild. How could you even concentrate? How could you even have a conversation with someone when there’s, you know, everything else?”

Chloe squeezes Lucifer’s waist.

“It is a learning process,” he says. “Eventually, I assure you, the experience starts to feel quite natural.” And then, quieter, “And eventually, you’ll begin to wonder how you could have ever seen things differently… how you could have ever been something so very small.”

Chloe curls her hand into Lucifer’s shirt, bunching the fabric a little. She doesn't want to call him out in front of Ella. Is this enough of a reminder?

Across the table, Maze squints.

“Woah, dude. Trippy.” Ella nods.

“Indeed.”

“Oh!” Ella exclaims, causing everyone at the table except Lucifer to flinch. “I gotta get you caught up on everything! All the stuff you’ve missed. That’s what girl’s night out is _really_ for. All the juicy deets.”

Chloe blinks up from her alcohol-induced haze. “Ella, you don’t have to—”

Lucifer sighs. “You can’t stop her, Detective. Ms. Lopez, I am already aware—”

Too late, Ella launches into a passionate description of the past couple weeks, including dramatic gestures and reenactments. She is the very definition of a happy drunk. Maze snorts into her drink occasionally. Lucifer listens with the same attention one might pay to a story one already knows by heart. Chloe is grateful all over again for Lucifer deleting her path from his sight. She couldn’t bear for her life to hold the same interest to him as a television rerun. She wishes so very badly that things could be different. She knows the old Lucifer would have loved Ella’s story.

The old Lucifer?

“… and that’s the really sad part,” Ella continues. “She really thought she was going to Hell.”

The word ‘Hell’ lifts Chloe from her reverie. She tilts her head up from where it was resting against Lucifer’s shoulder. She definitely missed the last few minutes of conversation.

“What?” she says eloquently.

Ella turns to her. “Remember that girl who came in last week? Shoplifting. God, she was crying so hard. Kept saying ‘thou shalt not steal’ over and over. Convinced she had committed some mortal sin.”

Chloe nods. She does remember. It wasn’t her department, of course. She only noticed because the girl’s particularly loud voice carried across the precinct. It was obviously some stupid teenage prank. Or maybe a misguided display of independence. The girl clearly hadn’t expected to be caught. It’s always fun and games until the police get involved.

“She will not go to Hell,” Lucifer says, cutting through Ella’s words and Chloe’s thoughts. His voice is imbued with authority, and it rolls deeper than usual. Is it Chloe’s imagination, or is the bar quieter? She suddenly feels eyes watching their booth, even though no one in the bar moved.

Ella blinks. She touches her cross necklace. “H-huh?”

“She will not go to Hell,” Lucifer repeats. “Not for this, at least. Cassie Rayleigh does not regret her actions. She does not feel _guilt_.”

Ella is abruptly lost for words. Chloe knows the feeling. The atmosphere has changed. The air is heavier. There is a pressure pushing against Chloe’s skin. It is as if the whole world is waiting… hanging onto Lucifer’s next words.

“Hell’s punishment is not retributive,” he says, each word a sermon all by itself. “In general it has very little to do with a given soul’s actual transgressions. Neither is it a deterrent. How can it be when a shrinking percentage of the population even believes in Hell, or in any afterlife? No. It is arbitrary. It is a system set up by Someone who barely understood the game when He started inventing the rules. Critically, it is not _necessary_. And, frankly, at this point I find my previous involvement in Hell’s function _obscene_.”

Maze slams her drink down on the table. “Wow. Really telling it like it is today, aren’t we?” she snaps.

Like a record scratch, life reasserts itself. The noise level in the bar rises. The tension is broken. The pressure lifts, and Chloe breathes freely again.

Maze stands up. “So, what? A little torture too low-brow for Mr. High-and-Mighty now, is it?”

Lucifer frowns. “I was not making a value judgment, Maze. Certainly not of you, at least. If you could see what I—”

“_Whatever_,” Maze scoffs. “I couldn’t care less what you think of my _home_ or my _people_. I never needed _His _judgment. I definitely don’t need yours, _Lucifer_. And hey, maybe your new halo’s so tight it’ll _crack your thick skull one day._” With that, she throws Lucifer the bird and turns her back on him. Then she stalks her way through the crowd towards the bar’s exit.

Lucifer stares after her, his brow furrowed. He makes no further attempt to stop her.

Chloe looks between the two of them, concerned. “Lucifer,” she says quietly. “What—”

“Guilt?” Ella interrupts. Her voice is shaking. She’s blinking hard, as if holding back tears. The fingers clutching her necklace are white. “Guilt sends you to Hell?”

Lucifer looks at her blankly. “Yes,” he says. “That is the way my Father willed it.” He cocks his head to the side, sizing her up. “You feel guilt,” he observes.

Ella bobs her head. Her fingers twist.

“You should not. You are proof that my Father’s design is inefficient.” Ella looks up, and Lucifer catches her eye. She is caught, then, like a rabbit in a trap, in his steady gaze. It is different, somehow, than when Lucifer uses his mojo. Used, Chloe amends in her head. Lucifer hasn’t used his mojo in her presence since all of this God business began.

“Tell me your guilt, Ella Lopez,” Lucifer commands.

Ella obeys.

“I killed Bob!” she yelps. “My… my turtle, Bob. I left him in the bath with Margaret, m-my chicken. I thought they could be friends. And I left them alone—but for just, like, a second! I just had to answer the phone! And when I came back…” Ella sniffs then, loudly. “He… he was flipped over. On his back, you know. And… and then Margaret… she had _pecked_…” She bursts into tears.

Chloe leans across the table, hoping to provide some kind of support (and baffled, a little, over where this conversation has taken them). “Ella,” she says. “That… that happened a long time ago.”

“I know,” Ella says with a small voice, wiping her face. “But I never really got over it. Bob was… they were _both_… It was my responsibility, and I… I just let it happen.”

Lucifer is a pillar of stone next to Chloe. “What would relieve you of this guilt?” he asks Ella, completely seriously.

“I… I don’t know. I messed up. You can’t… no one can bring Bob back.”

Lucifer blinks slowly. Then he pulls his arms away from Chloe and the seatback. He brings his hands under the table and clasps them together.

Chloe watches in startled confusion.

Beneath the table and out of Ella’s line of sight, a subtle glow starts to spill out between Lucifer’s fingers. Slowly, he draws his hands apart, and the glow remains. A ball of swirling, shining matter curls between his fingers like a Cat’s Cradle of stardust. Gradually, the light starts to coalesce, forming recognizable shapes. Something oblong. Something with legs. And a hard shell. And then it begins to move.

The glow dies.

Lucifer pulls the turtle out from underneath the table and hands it to Ella. It’s a small, juvenile box turtle, dark brown with yellow spots dotting its shell. It twists in Lucifer’s grip. It’s _alive_.

Ella gasps. “Ohmygosh!” she squeals, taking the turtle from Lucifer’s hands. “Lucifer! Did you get him—is it a him—for me? That’s so awesome! Wow, I can’t believe it. My birthday isn’t for another month!”

“It is a him.” Lucifer nods. “Obviously not an exact replica of Bob. That would perhaps be inappropriate. But it could be his brother, perhaps.” Then he looks at Ella seriously. “Will you take better care of him?”

Ella can’t take her eyes off the turtle. “Of course! Oh my gosh, of course. _You_,” she says, addressing the turtle. “You are going to have the best little turtle life ever. I’m going to get you all the best turtle food and turtle toys. No chickens for you. Thank you, Lucifer!”

“You’re very welcome,” Lucifer says. He’s smiling, satisfied.

Chloe looks between Lucifer and the turtle. The turtle that only moments ago had been a glowing ball of light. That moments ago had been _nothing_.

Life from nothing.

Dust to dust.

Chloe brings her beer up to her lips and drinks deeply.

\---

They drop Ella off at her apartment, new pet in hand. The rest of the ride back to the penthouse is a blur of dark brushstrokes and bright colorful highlights. Chloe’s next clear memory is Lucifer carrying her bridal style out of the elevator and into his apartment.

Chloe lifts her head from where it had been resting against his shoulder. She takes in her surroundings. Things are different from the last time she was here. The wall of liquor behind the bar appears to be untouched. The piano lid is closed. Books and scrolls are scattered throughout the living area, covering the floor and furniture. Chloe recognizes some of them as coming from Lucifer’s extensive library, but most are entirely unfamiliar.

“Huh?” Chloe says.

Lucifer starts walking towards the bedroom. “Apologies for the mess, Detective,” he says. In a blink, the books are gone. The apartment is in sudden perfect order.

“Oh,” Chloe sighs. “I wish I could do that.” She imagines a world in which she could clean up one of Trixie’s messes with a snap of her fingers. No more laundry. No more dishes. Her closet always, _always_ neatly organized. She hums happily at the fantasy.

Lucifer lays her down in his bed, placing her head gently on one of the smooth satin pillows. Chloe closes her eyes. She can feel him running his hand through her hair. The mattress dips as he sits next to her.

“Would that make this easier?” he asks quietly.

Chloe giggles into the pillow. “Hm?” she says.

“If you were like me? Would that make it easier? Being with me?” He laughs at himself. “Or is that my own selfishness talking…?”

Chloe grumbles.

“Of course, I can’t make you like me,” he mutters. “Not entirely. That’s impossible. I cannot give this power in its entirety to anyone. If you even wanted it. But…” He trails off, apparently lost in thought. The bedsheet scrunches and then relaxes. “What am I thinking? It’s not like you’re in any state to answer me. The… the last thing I want to do is take your choice away from you.”

Chloe opens her eyes and looks up at him. Lucifer is perched on the bed next to her. His hands are clasped together. His head hangs low. He looks… defeated.

“You made a turtle,” Chloe says.

“Yes.”

“You just… made one. Out of nothing.”

“I know.”

Chloe doesn’t know how to get the point across. Especially since her brain isn’t exactly firing on all cylinders at the moment. “It was _alive_,” she stresses.

“Yes. It was for Ms. Lopez. And it was quite easy to do. Is that the problem?”

“There’s… there’s no problem. I… I just…” A sharp pain pierces the inside of her skull. She pitches forward, wincing.

“Here,” Lucifer says.

He presses a glass into Chloe’s hand. Chloe squints at its contents.

“What is it?”

“Hydrator. Drink. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Where did it come from?”

An amused snort. “Same place as the turtle.”

Chloe nods. “Oh… oh, right.” She drinks the cool liquid and then sets the glass on the nightstand by the bed. “What’s with all the books?”

“Just doing some research, darling.”

Chloe leans back and settles into the bed. “What kind of research?”

Lucifer smiles tightly. “It’s like I was saying… Things I’ve never considered before.”

Chloe hums. It’s getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

Lucifer sighs. He starts undoing the buttons on his shirt. Then he stands and turns off the light. Chloe watches sleepily as he turns around and walks in the direction of the bathroom.

“Good night,” she whispers into the dark.

And then, “I miss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [ObliObla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/) for helping with the comma crisis and all of the support :)
> 
> And as always, thanks for reading!


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